Luck, pure and simple

February 25th, 2009

I’m not worried. Let me start by saying: I am not worried.

I spent the day in the pediatric emergency room watching The Boychen get rehydrated; Boychen is staying overnight, on a glucose drip, and right now R is with him and I am getting some rest and I am not worried. I’m not worried because he’s in the hospital, because he is hooked up to an IV-drip, because he is being observed. Because we have health insurance and money in the bank if we didn’t. Because we live five minutes from one of the best hospitals in Switzerland. Because they have a bed for him. Because they have sterile equipment and glucose solution and clean water when he is ready to try to take tea. Because we live here, in this place, in this time.

My son is beautiful. I am biased, of course, because I am his mother, but truly the Boychen is beautiful. It’s a rare cashier who can resist flirting with him when we go shopping, a cold bus passenger indeed who can fail to respond to his smile. My son is beautiful, and happy, and because I am his mother I think he is special beyond all reckoning. And he is going to be fine, and I am not worried.

But there is a beautiful happy boy somewhere, a boy who is special beyond all reckoning, who is not going to be okay. There’s a boy somewhere who started throwing up about the same time Boychen did. Who this morning couldn’t even keep a single soup spoon of plain water down. Who sometime between yesterday and today stopped making tears. Who doesn’t have the strength to hold his torso up. And he’s not going to be okay. He doesn’t live five minutes from the hospital. And they don’t have glucose solution and even if they did they don’t have clean catheters to put in a peripheral IV line. And he’s not going to be okay.

Luck. The sheer stupid dumb luck of fate that falls in our favor. I’m not a better mother and my son isn’t a sweeter child. We’re just luckier. We live where we live; in a world where that sort of thing matters very much, we live down the street from one of the best hospitals in Switzerland. That is why Boychen is going to be okay. That is why I am not worried.

I can’t let go of that tonight. That had I been born in a different place, I would be holding my limp boy, special beyond all reckoning, trying to get him to keep some water down, and worrying. Worrying very, very much.

The sheer stupid dumb luck of it all.